Her Desert Prince

by Rebecca Winters

  His sudden white smile in that burnished face robbed her of breath. “She was that,” he murmured before breaking into laughter, the rich male kind she felt to her toes, deep and uninhibited.

  She sent him an oblique glance. “I have a hard time believing you’re a confirmed bachelor.”

  “I’m not,” he stated matter-of-factly, “but when that day comes, it won’t be the kind of marriage you imagine.” He drank some coffee while he ate nuts and raisins from the bowls. “It’s not written in my stars.”

  Lauren wiped the corner of her mouth. “If I didn’t know myself better, I’d have made a wrong decision and be in a bad marriage by now. Surely you’re in control of your own destiny.”

  “So far,” he said on a cryptic note.

  “Do you have family here at the oasis?”

  He eyed her for a long moment. “I have parents and siblings.”

  “You’re very fortunate. Have you lived at the oasis all your life?” She found herself wanting to know any detail he would share.

  “Apart from schooling in England and France, this has been my home. Has Switzerland always been yours?”

  “Yes, but we sometimes stayed in New York where Celia was born.”

  “Tell me about your grandmother. Had she been ill a long time before she died?”

  He’d skillfully guided their conversation away from himself. “No. Celia came down with bronchitis and it turned into pneumonia. Most people in their seventies recover, but she didn’t. Because she was such an intrepid adventurer, I assumed she’d live well into her nineties.”

  “In other words, you weren’t prepared for her death.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t think you ever are, even if you sit at someone’s bedside for months or years. She was taken from me too soon.”

  “Every sun has to set,” his deep voice raked across her skin, startling her out of her thoughts. “Your grandmother’s sun set sooner than you would have liked. If you made each other happy, then there should be no guilt.”

  He’d picked up on her guilt with astonishing accuracy, but it had nothing to do with Celia, and everything to do with her inexplicable attraction to him. It frightened her a little. “You’re mistaken if you think I have regrets.”

  He studied her as if he could see into her soul. “Then why do you look, shall we say…fragmented when you talk about her?”

  Maybe he’d been a psychologist before going into security work. She drew in an extra breath. “That’s exactly how I feel, no doubt due to her unexpected death and my close brush with it.”

  “No doubt,” Rafi muttered, but he didn’t sound convinced. On maddening cue he said, “But I’m glad to see you have an appetite. Even if you’re in mourning, it’s an excellent sign that you’re returning to normal.”

  Since meeting Rafi, Lauren no longer knew what normal was. She sensed he was getting ready to say goodnight, but she didn’t want the evening to end. While she was contemplating a way to detain him, he said, “Much as I would like to stare into your jewel eyes for the rest of the night, it’s growing colder out here. Let’s go in and enjoy a game of cards. Otherwise I’ll have to explain to Dr. Tamam why his patient has suffered a relapse at my hands.”

  She could still feel those hands on her shoulders. Whenever he made a personal comment, she felt the blood surge to her cheeks. This time when they walked back inside, their bodies brushed. She felt like a firecracker ready to go off.

  “I’ll warn you now I only know how to play canasta.”

  One dark brow lifted. “They play that at the casino in Montreux?”

  She hunched her shoulders and smiled. “I doubt it, but I can’t say for sure. I only went inside it once with grandmother when I was a girl. She told me to take a good look at all the people and remember how desperate some of them looked. Then she never allowed me to enter it again. She said that gambling was one of the easiest ways to destroy people.”

  “And so you never went near?” he asked with a wicked smile. “Not even once as a small gesture of defiance?”

  Lauren shook her head. “No. She was so wonderful, I didn’t want to disappoint her.”

  “Disappointing people,” he murmured after a noticeable silence. “The most painful of punishments.” He sounded far away just then.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I happen to agree with you.” Again she had the impression his thoughts were on something that brought him grief.

  “Let’s play over here.” He gestured to the low-lying table in one corner of the sitting room. She sank down rather ungracefully into the cushions surrounding it. Rafi joined her with the ease and male agility of one who did this on a regular basis, extending his long power ful legs. Lauren tucked hers beneath her. The action brought her arm against his shoulder. Neither of them moved away.

  He shot her a glance that seemed to be narrowed on her mouth. “Teach me how to play canasta.”

  Her body thrilled to the knowledge that he’d come with a pack of cards in order to spend more time with her. He pulled them from his trouser pocket and put them on the table. “They’ve already been shuffled.”

  “Good. I hate having to wait.”

  He laughed out loud, warming her clear through.

  “Deal both of us fifteen cards,” she instructed.

  Her host took his time, smiling at her mysteriously as he did it.

  Trying to ignore his dominating male aura she explained the rules of the game as clearly and concisely as she could.

  He rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip in contemplation before moving the cards around in his hand. “Who taught you how to play?”

  “Richard, my grandmother’s husband.”

  They got started and she answered more questions as they went along. It didn’t surprise her he had a razorsharp brain plus a photographic memory. Once he’d caught on, they played until after midnight. The final count made her the overall winner by just a handful of points.

  “I want a rematch,” he growled the words, “but your eyelids are drooping so I’ll say goodnight and we’ll do this again tomorrow night.”

  She didn’t know if she could live till then.

  He left the cards on the table and got up in a lithe move. She clasped the hand he extended to her. “Oh—” she cried softly because the movement propelled her against him. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms with growing urgency. “I’ve been waiting to do this all night. One little taste for a consolation prize, I think.” The next thing she knew he kissed the nerve throbbing wildly at the base of her throat. Swarms of sensation filled her body, leaving her weak and trembling.

  When she could lift her head, she saw fire blazing in the depths of those black eyes. “I’ll come by for you at seven. If you’re up to it, there’s something I’d like to show you. We’ll eat breakfast after that.” Before she knew it, he’d slipped out of the suite.

  Lauren glanced at her watch.

  It was morning already.

  Maybe she was in a dream. If she was, she never wanted to wake up. Don’t let me wake up. Please don’t!

  Lauren prepared for bed quickly and set her watch alarm for six-thirty. She fell asleep at some point, but came awake a half hour before her alarm went off because she was so eager to see Rafi again.

  After a shower and a hair wash, she dressed in tan pants and a white blouse, her uniform for the desert. At ten to seven, she heard a rap on the door before he entered the suite. He was early too, dressed like her. His piercing eyes traveled over her, causing every nerve ending to tingle.

  “I like a woman who’s punctual.”

  “That works both ways,” she said, too breathlessly, as they walked along the passageway. She almost had to run to keep up with his long strides.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m anxious to show you the mews at the back of the palace where the royal falcons roost. I keep mine there. Johara loves a morning hunt. I’ve a feeling y
ou’ll enjoy watching her.”

  “You do falconry?”

  “When I was young it was one of my favorite pastimes with my friends. These days I rarely have time for it.” They went down a staircase and along another hall that eventually led to a shedlike room where she saw three falcons perched.

  She watched as he moved over to one of the brownish birds, probably a foot and a half long from head to tail. The moment Rafi started speaking in Arabic, the bird cocked her head toward him.

  He reached for a special glove on a nearby table. As soon as he put it on and held out his arm, she hopped on to it. Lauren would have given anything to have a camera to capture this splendid man interacting with a bird of prey equally noble.

  She moved closer to them. “So you’re one of Rafi’s pets. You’re magnificent.” Just like your master. “Now I understand.” The falcon tipped her head and regarded Lauren with a beady eye.

  A slow smile broke the corners of Rafi’s mouth. “Come with us, Lauren.”

  They walked outside into a world set aglow by an early-morning sun. After the cold of the night, the heat was already building. A Jeep was parked nearby. He let his falcon fly. She rose high in the sky with shocking speed.

  “Her wing span is huge!”

  “Three feet to be exact. We’ll follow her.” His excitement was contagious. Lauren got in the Jeep with him and they headed out on a road that led toward the open desert.

  “Johara will circle for food. If she can’t find any, she’ll come back to me.”

  She stared at his arresting profile. “Then what happens?”

  “We’ll drive her back to the mews where I’ll make sure she’s fed. The important thing is that she gets her exercise. When I can’t do it, someone else sees to it the falcons fly at least two hours every day.”

  Lauren shielded her eyes. “Has she ever not come back and you had to go looking for her?”

  He turned his head, meeting her eyes. “She always comes back, but that’s because I spent hours and hours training her in my late teens.”

  “Then she’s old.”

  “Yes. I don’t expect her to last much more than this season.”

  “Will you train a new falcon for yourself after that?”

  “No. I’ll never have that kind of time again,” he answered in a voice that sounded so bleak, she couldn’t account for it.

  “Maybe if you have a child some day? A son or daughter who loves falconry as you do?”

  In the next instant his countenance changed. An almost savage expression entered those incredible jet-black eyes, sending a chill that permeated her whole body. She wished she hadn’t brought up something so personal.

  “Forgive me if I’ve upset you.” For no reason she could think of it hurt when it shouldn’t have mattered at all.

  He shot her a penetrating glance. “You’ve done nothing. We all have our own demons to battle from time to time. What do you say we enjoy the rest of the morning and see if Johara’s old age has interfered with her ability to track down her prey? In her younger years she could spot it from a mile away.”

  The Jeep sped up. They’d left the road and were flying across the desert, which was flat in this part with some ground-cover vegetation. Ten minutes later they came upon a shelter which was nothing more than four poles holding up a canvas top. Beneath it she spotted chairs, and a table.

  “We’ll stop here for breakfast while we wait for Johara.”

  Lauren got out, delighted by the setup which included two thermoses of hot coffee and a supply of sandwiches and dates. Rafi appeared to have a fondness for them.

  They ate with no time clock in mind. He answered her hunting questions with admirable patience. She satisfied his curiosity about her travels with her grandmother and Richard. The good times, the scary times—it didn’t matter what they talked about. The sharing was what counted. The dark look she’d seen in his eyes earlier had vanished and Lauren knew instantly that she would clutch this memory to her forever.

  The sun was almost overhead when she saw a speck in the sky. Rafi had seen it first because he’d started putting on his glove and walked outside to greet Johara. With great majesty his falcon circled him and then used her wings like a parachute, slowing her speed until she landed on the back of his wrist.

  While he spoke in low tones to his bird, Lauren stood next to one of the poles, spellbound. “No luck today?” she eventually spoke.

  Rafi shook his head, drawing her attention to his glossy black hair. “No, but there’s always tomorrow. That’s what I was telling her.”

  His tenderness with his pet reached a spot inside Lauren that gave her worlds of information about the kind of man Rafi was. She knew that there was no one in this world like him.

  He walked over to the Jeep. After settling his bird on the back seat, he put a hood over her. “She feels safer like that.” He satisfied Lauren’s unasked question, then flicked her a probing glance. “Shall we go? One of the staff will dismantle our restaurant.”

  She climbed in the front seat. “I’ve eaten in a lot of restaurants in my life, but I’ll always consider this one my favorite.” She didn’t care if her voice wobbled from emotion. Lauren wanted him to know what this morning meant to her.

  He reached for her hand and held on to it. “Even if it isn’t true, I’ve decided I want to believe you.”

  She pondered the strange remark all the way back to the mews. Of necessity he had to let go of her to carry his falcon inside, leaving her aching for his touch. After feeding the bird, they made their way back down the hallway and up the stairs.

  Eventually they reached Lauren’s suite. She dreaded this part because she knew he had his work to do and couldn’t spend every minute of the day and night with her.

  After opening the door, she turned to him. “Thank you for a wonderful outing, one I’ll never forget.”

  He gazed at her through shuttered eyes. “Nor will I. Get some rest and I’ll come by for you at six.”

  Joy.

  Rashad left for his own suite, haunted by what was happening to him. Once he reached his own bedroom, he phoned his twin sister, Farah, and asked her to come to his suite the minute she was able. All three of his sisters were married, but it was Farah who had the most tender heart.

  He didn’t have to wait long before she swept into his sitting room. “Rashad?” She was wearing a rose caftan. Farah was a picture with her black hair hanging loose down her back, reminding him of the beauty of their women. Yet another image kept intruding of a female with spun-gold hair in enchanting disarray around her head and a complexion like strawberries in cream.

  “Forgive me for bothering you, Farah.”

  “You’re never a bother.”

  “Thank you for coming.”

  “You know I’d do anything for you.” He knew it was true and loved her for it. She sat down on one of the chairs facing him. “Is this about our father? Is he worse?” Her dark eyes glinted with tears.

  Their shape and color were different from the eyes he’d looked into out in the desert earlier. He’d had the sensation of stepping beyond the white froth of the surf where it broke into incredibly light-green water before melting into azure and then darkest blue.

  “No. There’s a guest here at the palace who was caught in a sandstorm two days ago. She almost didn’t survive.”

  Farah cried out and put her hands to her mouth in horror.

  “Dr. Tamam has assessed her and she’s recovering well, but I think she might need a friend whilst she is here so she doesn’t feel too alone. Her grandmother died recently. You’re the perfect person to help her get through this difficult period. Would you be able to spend a little time with her this afternoon?”

  “I’d be happy to do that. I’ll do whatever I can to cheer her up. Where was she taken?”

  “To the garden suite.”

  His sister rose to her feet. “You put her in there?” she asked incredulously. It was commonly known as the honeymoon suite for members of th
e royal family.

  “I asked Dr. Tamam to take her there following the examination. After the horror of her experience, I thought she should be surrounded by beauty. Don’t you agree?”

  “Oh yes, of course! Only you would think of it. Who is she?”

  “She’s a young American woman, currently living in Switzerland, named Lauren Viret. She came here hoping to get over the sadness of losing the woman who raised her. Perhaps she’ll tell you what it was she’d hoped to see and do while she was here at the Oasis. You’re easy to talk to, Farah.”

  “I’ll try, and you’re right. She shouldn’t be alone to dwell on that awful sandstorm.”

  “Thank you. You have my deepest gratitude for doing this personal favor for me. One more thing, I’ve told her I’m the head of palace security.”

  She smiled. “Well, I didn’t think you’d tell her you were the prince.”

  “No. I thought the revelation might be too much for her and make her more uncomfortable about staying here. I told her to call me Rafi.”

  “I haven’t heard you called that name in years.” She winked at him before walking out to the corridor.

  “Keep me updated, Farah. If she tells you anything I ought to know, come and tell me,” he said as he followed her.

  She kissed his cheek. “I promise.”

  He knew what was going through her head. In another six months Rashad would be married. Eventually the day would come when he would have to obey his father and go through with the dreaded wedding ceremony that would bring an end to his freedom.

  But while he was still single, his sister suspected him of having an interest in the American beyond concern for her comfort after her ordeal. That was exactly what Rashad wanted Farah to think. If she thought she could be an instrumental part of a passing romantic intrigue, so much the better. In her innocence, Farah made the perfect spy.

  In the middle of her nap, Lauren heard the maid calling to her. She sat up on the bed where she’d been resting. “Yes?”

  “You have a visitor, mademoiselle.”